The Heart Out Of The Bosom
by Jael the Scribe
Summary: My one and only POTC story. Ten years later. How it should have ended.


The way it should have ended . . .

**The Heart Out Of The Bosom**

_The Heart out of the bosom,  
__is never given in vain . _. .

Elizabeth Turner stood on the windswept cliff as the Flying Dutchman came out of the sunset. Beside her, Billy sang his favorite song and shifted nervously from foot to foot as he waited for his first glimpse of the man who was his father.

"I'm a big boy, Mama, let me carry it, please?" At first Elizabeth had been worried that the chest was too heavy a burden for a child, but in the end she had relented. She had placed the casket against Billy's cradle during those first lonely nights, so that her infant son could be lulled by its gentle rhythm, even when she had desperately craved the comfort of it near her own pillow. As her boy grew, the two of them had kept it close, safe from all harm. She knew she could trust him now with his father's heart.

A flash of green came among the reds and pinks, and a smile lit Elizabeth's face. Across the distance, she could see him in the rigging, tall dark and handsome, straining eagerly for his first glimpse of the shore. Ten years. Ten long years.

As the Dutchman dropped anchor, she saw her husband race to the bow and dive in, cutting the water cleanly and parting the waves as swiftly as a graceful dolphin. By the time she had made her way down the path to the beach, moving carefully out of concern for the boy, Will had reached the shallows, striding up from the water like Poseidon rising from the depths.

Elizabeth ran across the sand, and waded out into the surf, oblivious to the waves that clutched at her ankles and weighed down her skirts.

"You're as beautiful as the moment I last saw you," he said, holding out his arms. "Each second since I left you has been hell."

She flew into them, smelling the salt tang of the sea, feeling the warmth of his body through the wetness of his clothing, and sensing the gentle vibration against her beasts as he drew her close. "I love you," he said, and kissed her.

The kiss seemed to last forever, until she drew back and laid her head against his chest, reveling in the slow, rhythmic sound . . .

The slow rhythmic sound. Elizabeth gasped and tore away, floundering out of the surf to run to her son, who stood staring in wonder at the sight of his parents together at last, the casket clasped to his chest. She took the coffer from him and broke open the lid, as she had never done in all the years since she had bade Will goodbye. Empty. Impossible.

She whirled to face him. "Will . . . how?"

"Tia Dalma. Calypso. The lady of the sea. She told me that if you truly loved me -- if you stayed faithful until I returned, the curse would be broken. Of course, you couldn't know that, or the test would not be a true one. And I -- I just had to hope and to trust. I knew my faith had been justified when I saw you on the cliff and I felt the life spring into my chest again."

She shook her head in bewilderment. "But the Flying Dutchman . . .?"

"The Dutchman has a new captain," Will said gently. He drew an object wrapped in rags from a pouch at his belt. "This was to be my burden to bear, but I see there is someone else who can help me with it."

Will Turner walked up out of the water and knelt at his son's feet. "What is your name, lad?"

"Mama calls me Billy," the boy replied.

Will smiled. "That's a good name. I haven't been able to be here with you, Billy, but that will change from this day forth. You have a grandfather, son. He is a pirate, and a good man, and he loves us all very much. Keep this safe for him." He opened the casket and put the object inside.

Will rose and took Elizabeth in his arms, burying his face in her hair. "I didn't understand why he did it, until this moment. He told me I owed him nothing. And now, I owe him everything."

"Oh, Will," Elizabeth said as she held him close, and Billy came into his parents' embrace as well. "Bootstrap was a good man."

"Is a good man," Will said. "You can tell him that yourself in the morning. He has one day on dry land before he returns to his task. But first, you and I have tonight . . ."


End file.
